


We Are

by Unoriginality



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Romance, M/M, awkward discussions, wtf is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unoriginality/pseuds/Unoriginality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When boundaries leave friendship behind, but remain firmly in place from traditional relationships, what label applies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who reads my normal series of fics in this universe: no, this is not actually part of that series, but yes, the setting is loosely based on it. You don't need to be familiar with my series to appreciate this, though.
> 
> To slash fans: I am so sorry that this is lame. I tried.
> 
> To everyone: No, I have not found the flower story really happening. I stole that from an old doujinshi from my previous fandom that I got linked to. Japan is weird.

Evenings were quiet in the Rogers-Barnes apartment. Steve would kick back on the couch, sometimes watching the news, but more often watching anything available on Netflix that didn't sound disturbing beyond belief in an attempt to catch up on seventy years of pop culture.

Bucky spent his time on his tablet that Steve had asked Tony to design for him, trying to traumatize himself on the internet. Usually this involved reading weird news articles about the various things people liked to stick in themselves and ended up in the hospital to have removed. He was pretty sure the flower up the urethra was the winner so far, because while there were many more painful-sounding things he'd read about men sticking up their dicks, flowers definitely were the weirdest. He'd shared that one with Steve and immediately got smothered with a pillow for it.

"Weather's supposed to turn bad on us, tomorrow," Steve commented idly.

Bucky peered up at Steve from his spot, head resting on one of Steve's legs, his tablet lowered as his attention turned from reading about a man in Germany who'd subjected himself to cannibalism, as the victim, which he subsequently died from. Suicide by cooking. "We're staying in, then," he said in reply, turning back to his tablet. "I don't like getting wet."

"You're like a cat," Steve said, reaching down to play with Bucky's hair. Bucky barely noticed; this odd level of affection had become the norm for them somewhere along the way, and Bucky didn't mind. It was kind of nice, even if he thought it was strange for two straight men to behave like this, on purely an objective level.

But who said emotions were objective? The contact was nice, so why not?

"I am not," Bucky said. "I just don't like rain. It's depressing."

Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw Steve getting one of those bratty smiles that usually meant something stupid was about to come out of his mouth that Bucky would have to hit him for. "Your arm would probably make a good lightning rod if you stuck it up in the air."

"Hilarious," Bucky said, reaching up with his left arm and grabbing Steve's face to give it a shove. 

Steve laughed, catching Bucky's hand and pulling it away, maybe holding it a bit too long than what could ever be called normal. Bucky sighed, looking up at Steve, who returned control of Bucky's hand to him and looked at curiously. Steve usually knew when Bucky had something to say, and he didn't have to ask, just wait patiently.

"Steve, what are we?"

"Humans," Steve answered, which earned him a hit to the knee.

"Punk. You know damn well what I meant."

Steve took a deep breath, appearing to look back at the TV, which wasn't unusual on the very odd occasion one of them tried to initiate a Discussion about their increasingly weird intimacy, both emotional and physical. Fortunately, neither had shown the awkwardness of wanting to discuss sex, and personally, Bucky hoped it stayed that way. He liked the closeness they had now, it was comfortable and easy, but even if somewhere along the way they'd left the boundaries of friendship behind, sex was just not a consideration.

There was probably an actual word for that kind of relationship hiding on the internet, god knew Bucky had found all sorts of ideas about relationships and sexual identities outside of the binary there, but it'd been fascinating on a purely intellectual level. Alternative romances had never been in his sphere of personal awareness, although to be fair, any kind of romance had left his head after he died and it'd never really returned. Sure, women were still nice to look at, but the desire ended there.

"Are you saying you're uncomfortable?" Steve looked down at him.

Bucky took a moment to consider, having not really expected an answer. "No, not really. Just curious." He pushed some hair out of his eyes. "You? You're the one that hasn't thrown the idea of a woman out the window."

"How do you know that?" Steve demanded. "I have more important things to focus on than dragging a stranger into our home and hoping we don't have to explain things that are nobody else's business. I haven't had a date in a year, Bucky, or did you stop noticing?"

"No, I noticed, I just figured we'd been too busy with our jobs for you to have a chance."

Steve held up on hand in surrender. "Okay, I've avoided dating in the past for that reason. I'll admit it. But no, I haven't dated because I don't need to. I'm not lonely for company anymore."

"Steve, if you kiss me, I'm moving back into my own room."

Steve snorted. "Relax, Bucky, that's not going to happen." He studied Bucky's face for a moment. "Besides, your lips are too chapped right now to be entertaining anyway."

Bucky automatically ran his tongue along his lower lip, feeling for dry skin. Okay, so Steve had a point. Chapstick always felt so greasy to him, though, so he refused to do anything about it. "You notice weird things, Steve."

"Just being helpful."

"Nobody asked you to."

Steve flashed him a bland smile, then frowned. "Okay, you brought it up. Talk."

"I asked you, that means you first," Bucky protested.

"And I answered," Steve said.

"With a question," Bucky said. "That hardly counts, but fine, since you're insisting on being an asshole about it, I'll go first. I meant it, you try to kiss me, I'm moving back into my own room. I don't want sex, I'm not interested."

"But this is comfortable," Steve said, something in between a question and a statement.

Bucky shrugged, feeling suddenly a little awkward. "Yeah. It's not normal though, is it?"

Steve shook his head in agreement. "No, probably not. But when have we ever been normal?"

"I think we used to be," Bucky said, thinking back. "But not since the war."

Steve looked away, a thoughtful look on his face. "The truth, Buck? I don't care. I really don't care how anyone else would define us, we don't have to. We just are. We don't have to justify what's comfortable for us to anyone. We may be strange, and I wouldn't normally let anyone put their head in my lap, but you're you. I'm fine with that."

"Mm." Bucky set his tablet down on his chest. "We owe nobody an explanation, then," he said. "But just the same? I'd rather nobody know to ask for one. There's enough speculation out there, we don't need to dump lighter fluid on the fire just to watch it burn."

Steve laughed. "No, I've never been real public with affection anyway. You're the one that liked to publicly dance and romance women."

"Ugh." Bucky crinkled his nose. "Not going back there. They're fun to look at, but I'm with you on the 'nobody else needs to be here' thing. Besides, I'm dead, I really don't want to explain things to someone that might not stick around."

"Which was my point," Steve said. "You've been reading the internet too much, not everything needs a neat little label. We're Steve and Bucky, and that's it. So stop thinking too much about it."

"You know I like to overthink things," Bucky said, picking up his tablet, signaling a return to lighter conversation now that thoughts and feelings had been spewed everywhere in the spectacular fashion that only they were capable of.

"You really gotta stop that," Steve said. "One of these days, you'll kill the hamster running your head wheel."

Bucky grabbed the nearest couch pillow and smacked Steve soundly in the face with it. "Punk."

Steve laughed. "Jerk."

Bucky glanced up at him one more time. He still had an idle curiosity of knowing what label might fit them, but Steve was right. They didn't need one. They didn't need to declare if they were friends with unusual boundaries, or something else entirely with equally unusual boundaries. Either way, there was love there, and love was an emotion that didn't _need_ a label, and as long as they were happy, who the hell cared?

He smiled, finally feeling comfortable in their arrangement, then went back to his tablet. "Steve? This guy put a snake-"

"Finish that and I will beat you to death with the TV remote."


End file.
